He's Loose
by Julius Peabody
Summary: AU. Lulled into a sense of security, Padfoot and Prongs accidentally let the werewolf slip away. With the werewolf loose in the Forbidden Forest, what is to stop it from making its way to Hogwarts and the world beyond?
1. Hesitation

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

**A/N: This story is dedicated to my best friend and beta Lauren (Sparkling Patronus) who helped me refine my idea and waded through my horrible spelling and run-on sentences. **

It was nothing more than a stupid dare, and Regulus Black was no coward. Nor did he consider himself a fool, though wandering alone through the Forbidden Forest in the middle of the night was no intelligent act, especially if you were planning to spend the night. He considered himself quite lucky that his seemingly clever dorm mates had not decided to send him into the forest wandless, as it would have been impossible for him to keep himself protected and comfortable in such a savage setting had he been reduced to camping out like some filthy muggle. It already irritated Regulus enough that his housemates had purposefully made it impossible for him to reject such a ridiculous dare, though he supposed that he should have expected this humiliatingly scrutinizing treatment from his friends. He did have a traitor for a brother after all, though as far as his mother was concerned, Regulus Black was, and always had been, an only child.

In a way all of this was Sirius's fault. Regulus almost smiled to himself at this new revelation, pleased that he had once again found a way to cast the blame on his brother, rather than on himself. That was the way things had always been and as far as Regulus was concerned, it was the way things were meant to be. He was the favorite and Sirius was not. Regulus was the one who had to prove to everyone else (or at least everyone else who mattered) that the Black family was not falling apart, although the two burnt spots on their tapestry would clearly indicate otherwise. It was because his brother had stupidly gone and gotten himself disowned that Regulus was here tonight, fulfilling some stupid dare so that he could prove to himself and his classmates that the Blacks were still a force to be reckoned with. He was here because Evan Rosier had quite purposefully stated that camping out in the forest was definitely the most important thing Regulus needed to do to in order to prove his loyalty to Slytherin; to prove that he wasn't, and never would be, a disgusting and worthless blood traitor. Hopefully this time his friends would keep their word and Regulus wouldn't be cajoled once again into doing something so utterly ridiculous and life-threatening. He had suffered enough humiliation because of his brother, and he was tired of having to remind people that he and Sirius were two very different people.

Thankfully, the moon was full tonight and there was no need for Regulus to light his wand in order to see where he was going. He reminded himself that he wasn't a coward, but the looming and unmistakable light of the moon was still comforting, especially when he had no idea what was lurking in the ever-present shadows of the Forest.

&&&

Emotions were always so much simpler when one was an animal. If Sirius had been human at the moment, his mind would have been home to quite a few radically different emotions. This would have made it impossible for him to concentrate on the fact that he was essentially babysitting a rather volatile creature whose behavior could quite easily fluctuate between domesticated and uncontrollable. If Sirius had been in possession of his own humanoid mind while he routinely watched one of his best friends writhe in pain as the moon rose and the wolf took over, he would have been too preoccupied with the paralyzing combination of compassion, disgust, and fear that would inevitably follow as he would be forced to remember that yes, his dear friend Remus was secretly monstrous enough to tear Sirius's face off without a second thought.

Before Sirius had met Remus, werewolves had been his greatest fear, a reality he had been forced to deal with at the age of thirteen when once, by accident, he had encountered a boggart in his old house. The creature had surprised him by sprouting fur and howling. He had never told anyone what shape his boggart had taken, and thankfully it had never come up.

But now, as a dog, Sirius could take refuge in his canine mind. Life as a dog was much simpler than life as a person, and Sirius had occasionally been motivated to make the change permanent. It would certainly make life much easier to deal with.

Tonight was the perfect night to deal with things as a dog.

Ahead of him, Prongs stamped his foot impatiently, reminding Padfoot to stop pausing every two steps to smell a bit of grass, or an upturned log. Padfoot was indignant. It wasn't his fault the forest was filled with all sorts of interesting smells, and it wasn't his fault that Moony was being particularly boring tonight. Something scurried by, brushing against his leg, and a strange disembodied voice inside his brain told him to repress the instinct that fat scurrying things were chew toys by default. Assured by the fact that Moony was being particularly docile tonight, Padfoot shifted to the right, breaking the Prongs-Moony-Padfoot formation that been designed to ensure that there was always someone nearby who was large enough to keep the wolf under control. Padfoot called ahead, urging Prongs to let Moony have a bit more freedom. He was, after all, being strangely calm tonight, so it was only fair to adjust the defenses accordingly. Padfoot did not have time to see if Prongs had understood the message, for he was promptly distracted by a faint human smell that had been carried towards him by the wind, a scent that was vaguely familiar.

It appeared the wolf had picked up on the scent as well. It paused, and almost imperceptivity sniffed at the air, his huge paws quivering. Instinctively, Padfoot recognized this as the beginnings of something dangerous, and slowly emitted a low and threatening growl deep in his throat as a warning. This was useless of course, for both wolf and dog knew which was the more powerful. The wolf threw back its head and howled, its eyes bloodshot as drool dripped like venom from its fangs. The howl, cold and predatory, served as a reminder that the wolf was the dominate canine in this relationship, and the dog would do well to submit. Unfortunately, it was not in the dog's nature to be submissive.

The wolf remained motionless, his body tense and prepared to strike. He growled fiercely, his fangs exposed and his haunches raised. The dog was openly and characteristically defying authority. He was not afraid of the wolf, no matter how threatening it seemed, despite the fact that he had failed in his attempts to contain the wolf before, and despite the fact that he instinctively knew that such an open display of defiance could very well cost him his life.

The wolf was impatient. The sweet scent of human blood was wafting tantalizingly through the air, and still this pitiful, subordinate mongrel dared to stand in his way. The scent in the air consumed him, causing him to drool in ravenous hunger, causing his heart to throb wildly as he anticipated the glorious chase and capture and the taste of blood! He had no time to deal with the insistent subordinate, who was little more than a mere pup in his eyes. The wolf sprang instantly and impatiently, sparing no time for theatrics like the growl and stare-down of traditional canine battles. His sudden movement caught the dog off guard, but the dog wouldn't have stood much of a chance in combat anyway.

The wolf sprang, catching his opponent violently by the neck, and his fangs, driven by impatience, hunger and rage, dug deep into the dog's flesh, making it impossible for the dog to breathe. This seemingly fatal pose was held only briefly as the wolf, eager to dispose of this impertinent interruption, flung the dog's body into the air, shaking it once before releasing it suddenly, allowing its fangs to tear through even more dog-flesh. With a scream-like yelp, the black, bloodied offender fell pathetically to the ground, his head striking hard against the forest floor. Unconscious, Padfoot lost control of his magic and slipped back into humanity, leaving the crumpled body of a teenage boy in place of the fallen dog.

The results of the brief battle for dominance greatly pleased the wolf. Now, instead of one tantalizing scent of human in the air, there were two. The two scents were so similar in essence that the wolf almost did not realize that the very body it had flung behind itself was now distinctly human. Not wasting another moment, the wolf turned and leapt towards its human prey, which was now lying defenselessly on the forest floor. The wolf was determined to sink its teeth into the perfectly unprotected flesh, to feel the drip of human blood run down its throat…

But yet another contender dared to step between the wolf and its prey.

The wolf was not sure how to deal with this opposition. Prongs was much taller than the wolf and it doubted that it would be able to defeat this disturbance as easily as he had dismissed of the other one. The wolf paused for a moment, unsure of how to strike. The stag immediately took advantage of the wolf's hesitation and lowered its head, preparing to strike while the wolf was vulnerable. Prongs stepped forward, keeping his head bent, and drove the wolf backwards gently, trying its hardest to remind his quiet animal mind that the wolf should be hurt as little as possible. The wolf slowly retreated, for it wasn't stupid. He knew that the stag was much too large for him to fight it on his own and was willing to abandon this prey. After all, there was another body waiting for him only a few yards away; one that, by the smell of it, was gloriously unprotected.

Once the wolf had retreated far enough, Prongs raised his head, eyeing the wolf carefully. The stag was most certainly not expecting the wolf to suddenly turn tail and sprint in the opposite direction. The stag lacked a canine nose and was oblivious to the scent in the air. He hesitated before following the wolf's trail, torn between his obligation to follow the monster and his obligation to the bloodied, unconscious body behind him.

That moment of hesitation was all the wolf needed to escape.

James wished that he and his friends had devised some way to communicate with each other while in animagus form. If they had, James wouldn't have needed to hesitate. He would have been able to just sprint after Remus, using the hypothetical form of communication to remind Peter that he was not to leave Sirius's side. James hoped that Peter was smart enough to realize that such a command was understood, but perhaps a frantic-minded rat would be too wrapped up in his own animal instincts to remember the fundamental rules of friendship. James's own frantic animal mind prevented him from spending too much time worrying, but the faint remains of his human consciousness were still strong enough to allow some wisps of worried thought to remain. It was almost as if two very different and distinct commentaries were playing in James's head as he sprinted in the direction he'd seen the wolf head.

"Don't worry," the stag in his mind reassured him, "Just keep running running running running. The wolf is that way."

"Maybe I shouldn't worry," human-James agreed softly, "The only really dangerous creature in this forest is Remus. I think…. Unless I'm wrong...or unless he decides to loop back around…. He did seem very set on biting—"

"Running, running, running. It went that way. Go," the stag continued, and James's long, lithe legs obeyed.

"But what if something dangerous does find them? Peter's just a rat after all, and that's not a very reassuring source of protection. Whatever might come could just as easily tear him to pieces as well…"

It occurred to James that it was almost ironically inconvenient that the marauder who would have been best suited to find a lost werewolf in the dark was lying unconscious with only a rat-boy for company. All James could do was run, run, run, which was useless considering the wolf could have very well changed directions by now and Prongs would have no way of knowing. James wanted to stop running, irritated by how futile this was, and he was by now desperate to make sure that Peter and Sirius were safe. But he was a stag at the moment, and the instinctive stag mind that was currently in control of his body was determined to keep running. In an instant, in order to avoid further arguments with his stag-self, he was a boy again. The now human James turned on his heels, sprinting back to where he had left his friends only moments before.

&&&

Peter hated being a rat.

In essence, being any sort of animal at all when he was really just supposed to be a boy was quite exciting, especially considering the fact that it was illegal and he had been able to figure out how to do it mostly on his own. The only irritating part of the transformation was the fact that he, by some strange twist of fate, was meant to be nothing more than a stupid, fat rodent. It sounded so horribly unimpressive when he could think of at least a million other useful animals he could have become, but he was unfortunately stuck as a veritably useless rat. It was nowhere near as impressive as he would have liked, and nowhere near as awe-inspiring and brilliant as it would have been to be anything else; anything else like say, a stag or a dog.

Peter hated going on romps in the moonlight with Remus every month. He could never really do anything while he was with them. All he was there for was to stop the stupid tree from attacking them, and quite frankly Peter imagined that James and Sirius probably could have managed that task without him anyway. All they needed was good reflexes and a particularly long stick. Once they had made it into the shack and had set Remus loose, Peter had to be sure to stay out of the way. He couldn't exactly wrestle like Remus and Sirius, or race through the trees like James and Sirius with Remus oftentimes chasing behind. Playing with a wolf or a dog would most likely result in him getting accidentally eaten, and hanging too close to Prongs put him at risk of being stepped on. So unfortunately, Peter was stuck just being there, tagging along as always, watching the fun but uninvolved unless the others needed someone to play look out or tap a knot on a tree.

Still, Peter would never breathe a word of these feelings to his friends. It was much better pretending as if he belonged with them than to mention that he considered himself the odd man out. His friends didn't really mean to exclude him, Peter reasoned. The other boys did count him as one them, but the fact of the matter was that when it came down to it he wasn't exactly Marauder material unless one of the other three coaxed it out of him. It was also much better to stick around than to go off on his own, and being known as "that small, chubby bloke who follows Lupin, Black and Potter around" was much better than being anonymous or known as "that poor fat boy with no friends." Perhaps someday he could prove to his friends that he was more than just a tag along. Perhaps one day, when the opportunity presented itself, he would actually do something that would change the world.

Tonight Peter, as a rat, felt even more insignificant. He could do nothing but watch as Remus proceeded to toss Sirius around, and he could do nothing but gape in awe as James heroically frightened Remus away from Sirius, who had somehow ended up human again. The scene was enough to give Peter nightmares for months, and he had to constantly try and suppress his primary rat instinct to run, far, far away from the two potential predators that seemed ready to attack. Only when James chased after Remus did Peter's rat-self finally seemed to calm down, and he was able to relax, secure in the knowledge that his rat body wasn't going to be writhing in fear. His first human thought was annoyance at being once again left behind, though as he scurried forward to follow after James he remembered that someone had to sit and watch over Sirius. Once again, James was off being the hero while Peter was forced by obligation to stay behind.

Once human, Peter's resentment disappeared as he caught sight of what Remus had really done to Sirius.

Sirius's head had fallen back at an odd angle, and his forehead was pallid, stained with deep crimson blood that had partially begun to clot. He was still bleeding significantly from a deep gash on his forehead, though it was hard to tell just how much blood he was losing because his hair, sweaty and matted, had begun to stick to the wound. The droplets of blood bent and slid down his temples, no doubt pooling somewhere in his hair towards the back of his head.

He was bleeding from his neck too, no doubt from the puncture wounds Remus had made when he had used his teeth to fling him around. The bleeding here was much easier to identify and, judging by the location of the bites and the frequency at which the blood was dripping from the wounds, Peter was pretty sure that it could be fatally serious. Weren't there some major arteries right around that point on your neck? Peter wasn't positive, but he hoped for Sirius's sake that Remus had managed to miss them.

It took Peter several seconds to take it all in. Once he had, he did the only thing that befit the situation: he screamed.

Peter immediately descended into a state of panic, and his body was suddenly overflowing with endless, frantic energy. Once he'd finished screaming, Peter's next course of action was to begin waving his hands frantically, clapping them together and chaotically twitching as if he was having some sort of conscious, standing-up seizure. He began mumbling incoherently to himself, his panicked ramblings spoken too rapidly to be understood, while he stuttered, breathing erratically. He collapsed to the ground, a perfect victim to shock, and he fidgeted while rocking back and forth.

"This can't be possible", he began, muttering wildly to himself. "I knew th-this was a b-baddd idea, I knew it was going to be dangerous and we shouldn't have come out here in the first place, and Remus is d-d-dangerouss and unpredictable and ohdearMerlin is he alive? He must be or he wouldn't be bleeding and ohfuckinghellwhereis James? James James James James help!" He continued to rock frantically, his chest starting to constrict as he realized he was about to start wailing. His breathing grew shallow and he began making loud, alarmed noises in the back of his throat. "Ohhell-ohfuckingohfuckinghell what if he comes back and James isn't here? I'm just a fucking rat and Ohhhhhh!" His helplessness caused him to lose all control and in that instant he began wailing, screaming and sobbing, his eyes welling up with burning tears of hopelessness and despair.

James would come back, and James would make this all better. James wasn't a coward like Peter was.

&&&

A noise suddenly reached James's ears. In the distance, someone was wailing.

James willed his Quidditch-toned body to move faster. His legs ached, and he was so exhausted from sprinting that every breath he took caused him to shake, his lungs expanding to greedily take in oxygen that was somehow never enough to satisfactorily keep him going. His extremities were numb, which gave him the feeling of painfully gliding a few feet above the ground, though his mind was too preoccupied calculating all possible scenarios that could have resulted in someone wailing. Morbidly, death was the first thing that he came up with. James forced himself to stop thinking about of the possibility of returning to find Peter wailing over a newly-dead Sirius. Instead, he concentrated on willing his body to continue, his anxiety serving as an adrenaline rush

If Sirius dies, James thought suddenly, then it would really have been Remus who had—

James cursed, begging his subconscious to remain silent. He hoped that all of his thoughts were needless and that he would return to find a completely-alive-if-not-a-little-scratched-up Sirius.

Sirius was still alive, but he was more than a little scratched up.

"James!" Peter squealed, scrambling forward on his knees. He seized hold of James's leg suddenly, sobbing into it and shaking, apparently hoping that James could give him some support.

James made no sign that he had even noticed Peter. His eyes were glued to Sirius's mangled body. He didn't move. He could barely breathe.

"James!" Peter implored, "James, look at him. He'll be al-alllright won't he? Won't-he, James?"

James was quiet. His face was set, and his body had gone rigid.

"James," Peter continued, his voice cracking deliriously, "Look at how red his blood is! Do you think its extra-red because of how pure he is?"

James wanted nothing more than to slap Peter hard in the face. He wanted to shake him violently and scream at him, telling him to shut his fucking mouth before James was forced to silence Peter himself. But James did none of those things. Peter was obviously distraught and delirious, and James had no right to scream at him for that. Besides, James doubted he was even capable of movement or speech at this point.

"James," Peter began again, the hysteria in his voice slowly subsiding. "James, where is Remus?"

"I couldn't find him." His own words seemed meaningless and echoed hollowly in his own ears.

"James," Peter added quietly, "James you do realize Remus was the one who did this?"

Of course he realized it.

He just refused to believe that it was possible.


	2. The Fate of the Brothers Black

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

**A/N: This chapter is very long, I hope that doesn't bother anyone. My beta is currently on vacation, so she hasn't gotten around to reading this chapter, but I was very impatient so I decided to put it up anyway. I hope there aren't any obvious errors, and I think there aren't any, as I read it a few times. Anywho, Enjoy! **

"I think we should get him to the Hospital Wing," James intoned uncertainly. His mind was still painfully numb from shock, but he unwillingly tried to force his mind into action, if only for his best friend's sake.

"I…I don't think he should be moved," Peter replied quietly, "I mean, his neck is bent in an awfully weird angle…"

James nodded, his mind frantically moving to formulate some sort of plan. He hoped that he was not too late. "Then you should…you should go and get someone, Wormtail."

"Me? Why me? You know…you know there's a _werewolf_ out there."

"Yeah, I am aware of that." Peter winced. James's tone was much too short for his liking.

"Well then why do I have to—"

"Someone has to stay here and watch Padfoot," James interrupted, having little patience for Peter's excuses, "And I think that of the two of us, I'm the best suited for fighting off a werewolf."

Peter nodded, wishing desperately that he had a way out of this situation. Though he would be safe from werewolf bites as a rat, who could be sure that Moony wouldn't eat him or something?

"Maybe we can move him, you know? Maybe we're just…uh…overreacting."

"Go to the Hospital Wing," James repeated with irritation, "Get Madame Pomfrey. Tell her to bring a stretcher or something…and some potions and whatever the bloody hell else she'll need. Just tell her what happened."

"That means we'd have to tell her Moony's secret."

"Try to leave that out…if you can."

Peter nodded, doubting that he would be able to keep that a secret. The werewolf was loose anyway; it wasn't as if someone wasn't going to find out about it.

In an instant, Peter was gone, scurrying through the underbrush, hoping that Moony was somehow wandering in the opposite direction.

&&&

There was something moving. Something very large and fast was behind him.

Regulus could hear it coming, its footfalls echoing endlessly through the trees that rustled as it passed, their dry leaves whispering in warning.

He turned around, his pulse quickening, his eyes widening in the dark.

There was a growl.

He screamed.

His sanity was instantly lost.

&&&

It was much too bright in the room.

Sirius groaned, his brain throbbing erratically in his skull, his ribs shaking as he attempted to breathe. His eyelids, heavy and swollen, opened slowly before blinking reflexively, trying to block out the overbearing light that was too much for his bruised brain to handle.

"Mr. Black…Mr. Black…are you awake?"

He groaned again and shifted his weight onto his side before letting out a startled cry.

"No, no, don't do that…your ribs…"

He nodded subconsciously and floundered for a bit before settling down on his back once more.

"I'm surprised you're awake so soon. When Mr. Pettigrew called me out into the Forest I didn't know what to expect."

Sirius groaned at the memory which was hazy, but still ominous, in his head.

"You're a very lucky boy," the voice continued. It was closer now, but Sirius could not tell where it was. His eyes had not yet gotten used to the light.

"How…how long was I…?"

"Not nearly long enough." The voice was short and disapproving. "I would have expected someone who has sustained injuries as serious as yours to be out for days, at least."

"Perhaps…perhaps you've overestimated it?" Sirius countered insolently, "Or you're exaggerating?"

"You don't understand how seriously injured you were. If I had come a moment later I suspect things would have been very unfortunate." The voice was impatient.

"How unfortunate?"

"You were losing blood very quickly," it continued, "I suspect you would have bled to death had I not arrived when I did, or if Mr. Potter had not decided to attempt to stop the bleeding."

"James?" Sirius exclaimed weakly, his voice dry and thin from hours of being unconscious. "Where is he?" Sirius attempted to sit up.

"That is none of your concern, at the moment. Lay down."

"No. I need to see him. Is he all right?"

"Mr. Black, calm down and stop struggling."

"But I need to know…what happened, I mean…"

"Both Mr. Potter and Mr. Pettigrew are perfectly fine. They have perhaps suffered some minor scratches, but I assure you they will live."

"And Remus?"

There was silence. Sirius blinked, allowing the room to finally come into focus.

"We were unable to locate Mr. Lupin," said Madame Pomfrey dismally at the foot of the bed.

Sirius once again made to get up.

"Lay down. Please. You're still very weak."

"No. I need to go. I need to go find…"

"You've caused Mr. Lupin enough trouble already. I highly doubt that you, an overly reckless irresponsible seventeen year old boy, would be able to locate to him when the entire Hogwarts staff could not. You and Mr. Potter may think yourselves to be cleverer than the rest of us, but I assure you that regardless of whatever "complex magic" you two were able to pull of you are in no way capable to watch over a practically full grown werewolf, and you are in no way qualified to throw caution to the wind and go werewolf hunting."

Sirius blinked, taken aback by the nurse's sudden violent accusation, unsure as to how he should respond. She was entirely right, and Sirius knew she was, but he was stubborn and as always, loathed admitting that he was wrong. There was nothing irresponsible and presumptuous about attempting to help a friend. There was nothing purposefully harmful in what he and James had tried to do, and Sirius couldn't stand to be yelled at for it. He knew, of course, that it was his fault that Moony had gotten loose, but he was certain that she had no right to throw accusations at him when it was obvious that he was already feeling tremendously guilty.

"I notice you aren't including Peter in your little tirade," Sirius countered coldly.

"You and I both know that Mr. Pettigrew would never have attempted something like that on his own."

"Where did you learn about all of this?" Sirius continued maliciously.

"I'm not stupid, Mr. Black. I knew what kind of bites there were on your arm. When I asked Mr. Potter about the situation he was forced to tell me the whole story."

"You must think you know everything, then. We've told you our little secret and now you think you have the right to condemn us. You must think that you're a much better person than we are, now that you know all about what risks we took to help a friend."

"It was irresponsible and dangerous," she continued, nonplussed, "not to mention illegal. I know that you and Mr. Potter aren't responsible and rule-abiding in the least, but I am shocked that you would put Mr. Lupin's life in danger just because the both of you are arrogant enough to assume that you are above the law."

"We were trying to _help_ him," Sirius countered viciously.

"Yes and now look what you've done. You've lost him! You've practically sentenced him to an early death! Do you have any idea what would happen if the wrong sort of people managed to find him? What would happen if the Ministry runs into him or catches wind of this? Do you have any idea what you've done?"

The expression on Sirius's face showed that he knew exactly what he had done.

Madame Pomfrey's expression softened. "It's morning now. Maybe he'll come back of his own accord."

Sirius remained motionless and did not say a word.

With one last glance at Sirius, she went to move away from his bed before pausing, as if considering something.

"Mr. Black?" She began tentatively.

Sirius made no indication that he heard her.

"I…I unfortunately have more bad news."

"More?" Sirius intoned with a desperate laugh. "There's nothing else you could say to make this situation worse than it already is."

"Mr. Black," She continued carefully, "It's about your brother. We found him this morning…in the Forest."

Sirius turned, watching Madame Pomfrey incredulously.

"I'm afraid…he's been bitten."

&&&

Regulus is having a nightmare.

Something is coming after him, but it is invisible in the darkness. He can hear it growling, and he can feel its heavy panting over his head.

He wants to scream, and tries to run away, but his legs do not seem to be responding.

He pleads with it. It growls again, before its mouth opens and closes on the soft flesh of his leg.

In bed, Regulus is flailing. Sweat is pouring down his face, and he is mumbling to himself, whimpering and crying out while he fitfully sleeps.

Madame Pomfrey pours a few drops of Potion into his mouth, wipes his forehead, and magically secures him to his bed.

Regulus groans, and continues to flail, his body electrified with movement and sound. He cannot keep still. His blood is changing much too quickly, and there is nothing anyone can do to stop it.

Tomorrow night, he will transform for the first time.

&&&

"Reg?"

Regulus looks up slowly, his eyes wide and unblinking as he registers his brother standing a few feet away from his bed.

"Go away."

"Regulus. I want to help you."

"There is nothing you can do."

"Not to stop it, but there are ways of dealing with it."

"I don't want to deal with it."

"You have to."

"I'll do whatever I want to."

Sirius sighs, and moves closer to his brother's bed. Regulus turns, pretending not to notice.

Gingerly, Sirius takes a seat on the foot of his brother's bed. The mattress bends with his weight, and Regulus is forced to look up. He notices the bandage wrapped cautiously around his older brother's head, sees that Sirius's grey eyes are swollen, and observes how stiffly he is holding himself upright, as if it is painful to lay his weight on his bones. He has been injured as well. Regulus notices this, but says nothing. He is sure his injury is worse.

They have not spoken to each other in two years. They know that affection is still there; it is impossible to erase thirteen years of fraternity and love, and Regulus cannot deny that he has always looked up to his brother. He has forced himself to forget about Sirius, and is doing a perfect job acting as if he has. Regulus has always found it easy to pretend he has hated his brother. Years of living among his mother has fashioned him into a model liar. His emotions were always so easy to hide and manipulate, and he was always the opposite of his brother in that respect. Regulus was the master liar and Sirius was painfully honest, often without meaning to be, his expression and tone always broadcasting his emotions helplessly to the world.

"How…how are you feeling?"

Regulus shrugs. "I imagine you know, then?"

Sirius nods.

"I don't need your sympathy."

"But you do need my help."

"I need nothing from you." The words are cold, and Regulus spits them out callously, his eyes glinting angrily.

The resentment is obvious. Regulus has always felt abandoned by his brother, and it hurts Sirius to realize that.

"You can't hold a grudge forever," Sirius comments, "It's been two years, Reg."

"You have no right to talk about holding grudges," Regulus counters, "You've spent your entire life holding one."

"I'm trying to help you." Sirius's voice hardens. "Why can't you be grateful?"

"I don't want your help. This is all your fault."

Sirius winces. He wonders how much Regulus knows.

"I wouldn't have been out in the forest if it wasn't for you."

"What are you talking about?"

"If hadn't decided to run off and play blood traitor with your little friends, I would never have had to make up for it."

Sirius let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. Regulus didn't know the whole story. "No one ever told you you had to."

"I didn't, who else would? Our family has enough blemishes on its reputation, and I wasn't about to sit by and let everyone think the worst of us."

"What does it matter?"

"That's the sort of attitude I've come to expect from you."

"What does 'upholding the long lost Black reputation' have to do with this?"

Regulus is silent. Spending the night in the Forest, regardless of the reason, seems foolish to him now, but he is a Black, and Blacks never admit they are wrong. Sirius does not feel like pressing the issue and watches Regulus pityingly in the silence. The younger boy turns away. He does not want his brother to see his emotions, which are uncharacteristically written plainly on his face. Sirius slowly attempts to place his arm around his brother's shoulder, but Regulus shifts, avoiding his reach.

"Mother is going to kill me," Regulus whispers, his words faltering.

Sirius says nothing. He wants to comfort his brother, but he cannot bring himself to lie to him. He wraps his younger brother in a hug, and this time Regulus does not resist. Despite the cold façade he has spent years cultivating; Regulus instinctively buries his face deep into Sirius's shoulder, shaking as he silently begins to cry. His breathing is shallow, and Sirius can feel his fragile form withering in his arms. It pains Sirius to know that there is nothing he can do, and that his own irresponsibility is the reason why his brother is like this.

"Don't worry, Reg, I'm here, I promise. I'll help you." Sirius is reminded of his childhood, when he often spent nights holding his brother this way, whispering calm words into his ear while his parents fought on the floor below. Sirius reflexively strokes his brother's back, not bothered by the fact that they are both much too old to be embracing in this manner. In Sirius's mind, Regulus is still five years old, vulnerable and in need of protection.

Regulus wants to tell Sirius that it is impossible to try and help him. He has been bitten, and there is no changing that. Sirius cannot take the infection out of his blood and make it disappear. He cannot hide Regulus from his mother and prevent her from discovering the abomination her son has become. He knows that Sirius is not as strong as he thinks he is. He also knows, in the quiet depths of his heart, why Sirius had to leave two years ago, and in this moment of vulnerability and comfort Regulus forgives him. He knows that in reality, Sirius's affection and comfort will not solve anything, but for a moment it seems possible to go back in time and change the horrific events of the night before. In that moment, Regulus feels that his brother can make anything possible.


	3. Consequences

Remus knew there was blood in his mouth before he regained consciousness. Reflexively he sputtered in an attempt to rid his mouth of the coppery liquid. His mind slowly drifted back into life, and his eyes slowly opened and focused on the sky. He was laying flat on his back, his body bare, cold, and vulnerable after last night's transformation. In an instant, he realized what the taste in his mouth must have meant. He sat up instantly, his body rigid and his breathing shallow. He shivered, drawing his hand to his mouth. When he pulled his hand back to his face he could see drops of crimson, a frightening confirmation that his worst fear had come true. His eyes widened and his pulse increased before he jumped to his feet and sprinted away, despite being sore and cold.

His adrenaline drove him forward. He needed to find a place to hide.

&&&

James was still numb.

He had been sitting motionless on his bed since he had returned from the Hospital Wing. He was wearing the same clothes he had been wearing the night before, well aware that they are stained with the blood of his best friend. He could not bring himself to move. It felt as if his mind was no longer concerned with controlling his body, too preoccupied by the fact that two of his best friends were very much in danger of dying.

Slowly, he allowed himself to lie backwards on his bed, his eyes focusing blankly on the ceiling above him. It didn't seem right that the dormitory was so empty, and he could not help but believe that he had helped to cause all of this.

He had been unable to control Moony. He had let him get away. He had let Moony attempt to tear Padfoot limb from limb.

Normally, James was the one who took special care in planning their late night excursions. He was the one who made sure Moony was always surrounded, and who kept a close eye on him when he and Padfoot fought in the darkness. He always fixed things when they seemed to be going terribly wrong. Last night, he hadn't done his job, and Sirius and Remus were paying the price.

He sighed quietly before turning onto his side and burying his face in his pillow. In a few hours, he would force himself to get up and check on Sirius.

The door to the dormitory opened. Peter walked inside.

"James?" His voice was quiet. He was obviously afraid.

James turned to face him. Peter was startled by the remnants of tears that were scattered across James's face.

"James," Peter repeated, glancing sympathetically at his friend, "Your clothes…You're still wearing…"

"I know," James responded shortly, sitting up in his bed. "I couldn't…get the energy, I guess, to change out of them."

"Sirius will be fine," Peter reassured half-heartedly, "I'm sure he'll be all right."

James noticed he has said nothing about Remus. "Hmm," James intoned lamely, rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses. "I…I really hope so." His voice cracked. Peter glanced down at his feet, as if embarrassed to be witnessing this.

"They haven't found him," Peter continued quietly. "They looked through the Forest and through Hogsmeade. He wasn't there. He must have traveled farther out than that…"

James nodded. He did not know how else to respond. He felt tears prickling on the corners of his eyes and wiped them away quickly, unwilling to cry in front of Peter.

"Dumbledore wants to see us. They sent me in to get you."

"Now?" James sighed desperately, wanting nothing more than to be alone.

"Yes. It's urgent. Mc Gonagall's really angry. I think…" Peter faltered.

"You think?"

"I think we might get expelled." Peter was hysterical now. "We broke the _law_ James!"

"Of course we did," James countered impassively. "You knew that when we agreed to do it."

"But you said we'd never get caught! That's what you and Sirius said, and I believed you! You said we wouldn't get in any trouble, but look! Look! We might be _expelled_!"

"I can't believe you, Peter." James's voice was suddenly cold and irritable.

"Wh-what?"

"Sirius almost _died_ last night. Remus is fucking_ missing_, and all you can think about is how you're going to get expelled?"

"I didn't…I mean…"

"I don't care. You said it, so you must have meant it." James stood up and headed for the door.

"James…Where are you going?"

"Dumbledore wants to see us."

"You shouldn't go…like that…you're covered in…in blood, James!"

James stopped in front of the door before grudgingly realizing that Peter had a point. He headed to his trunk and began to get dressed.

"James?" Peter began tentatively.

"What?"

"Are you angry at me?"

"I don't know," James replied honestly, "All of this is hard enough without me getting angry at you."

Peter nodded, but was unsure as to what James meant.

"C'mon," James continued, storing the blood-stained clothes under his bed, "Dumbledore wants to see us."

&&&

Sirius had been sent to Dumbledore's office.

It was still hard for him to move around for too long. His ribs were still cracked, making breathing especially difficult, and his head still throbbed uncomfortably, making him prone to dizziness. He paused in front of the doorway to the Headmaster's office, panting, knowing that if it weren't for the severity of the situation, he would still be laying in his bed in the Hospital Wing. Considering this made him feel nauseous again.

He muttered the password dismally, not looking forward to this meeting at all. He stepped through the threshold, noticing that the rest of his friends were already there. Sirius was miserable, and James's relieved smile was not enough to change his mood.

&&&

Peter was afraid of more than expulsion. What they have done is illegal, and he knew they deserved worse than whatever punishment Hogwarts was able to throw at them. He wondered if he will be thrown into Azkaban.

Dumbledore sat serenely behind his desk, silent and authoritative as he waited for Sirius to arrive. Mc Gonagall stood by his right shoulder, her expression indecipherable. Peter wished he knew what they were thinking.

Beside him, James sat, his shoulders hunched with worry, his expression wary and uncertain. He glanced hopefully at the door occasionally, obviously awaiting Sirius's arrival eagerly. It bothered Peter that James was so uncharacteristically serious and uncertain. This was not the James he knew well. He could not remember ever witnessing James being this desperate and helpless. James Potter's infamous confidence had disappeared, and to Peter, this was a very frightening thing.

The door opened, and Sirius entered, his walk unsteady and his movements obviously laboured. James turned and smiled half-heartedly, euphoric that his best friend was alive and conscious, but concerned that it was difficult for him to move.

Sirius did not smile back.

Peter winced. Sirius wasn't being himself either. Peter did not know how much more of this he can take.

"Thank you for joining us Mr. Black," Dumbledore began formally. "Please, take a seat."

Sirius took a seat with difficulty, and Peter noticed James glance sympathetically at Sirius before turning to face Dumbledore. The headmaster cleared his throat, as if he is unsure as to how to begin. He looked at the three of them carefully, his emotions unreadable.

"Last night," Dumbledore began, addressing Sirius, "when Mr. Pettigrew called for Madame Pomfrey to help fetch you from the Forest, there were many…questions that needed to be answered. While you were recuperating in the Hospital Wing, Mr. Potter and Mr. Pettigrew were kind enough to explain to us what we needed to know. There will be no need to explain what you have been up to routinely these past two years, and there will definitely be no need for you to provide any further explanation of what you have done, nor is there a need for you to explain for motivation for doing such a thing."

"It was very foolish and dangerous thing for you all to have done," Mc Gonagall interrupted. Peter winced. Her words were harsh, and her expression was frighteningly nervous and disapproving. "I cannot believe that such an idea could have entered into your minds, and it is even more unbelievable that you actually decided to go through with it."

"There is no need for a lecture, Minerva," the headmaster interrupted, "I do believe that we have lectured Potter and Pettigrew enough on this subject last night, and I think Mr. Black is not ignorant of the severity of his actions."

"Are we going to be expelled?" Peter cried suddenly, too overwhelmed by the situation to restrain himself.

"I feel there is no need for discipline. The urgency of this situation does not leave us any time for it, and I do not feel the three of you have done anything to deserve being expelled." Peter gasped at his good fortune, and in his excitement was going to speak again, but Dumbledore cut him off. "As I have said before, this situation is quite urgent, and it is quite grave, so this meeting has been called so that we may adequately deal with the consequences of the night before. Mr. Lupin is still missing, and it is necessary to find him immediately, before the Ministry or anyone else can. There are still two nights of the full moon left, and he cannot be allowed to wander alone." Dumbledore paused, and reflexively lowered his eyes, stealing a somber glance at Mc Gonagall before continuing. "Regulus Black has been bitten. As headmaster, it is my duty to inform his parents of what has happened, and an owl has been sent out to them this morning."

It was then that Sirius, who had been silent and impassive throughout this meeting, began to scream.

&&&

"No!"

It was more than a plea; it was an expression of shock and disbelief. It was the desperate cry of someone who knows that a situation that seemed to already be at its worst was about to become exponentially worse. It was the guilty screams of someone who knew that all that has happened was entirely his fault.

Sirius could feel everyone's eyes on him, and while he felt Peter's frightened glance and James's apprehensive stare the most prominently, he kept his gaze trained threateningly at the headmaster.

"I had no other choice, Sirius, you must understand. As headmaster, it is my duty to—"

"You don't understand! Telling that bitch is—"

"Sirius, please watch your language."

"You've just sentenced them to their deaths!" Sirius's voice was a hysterical shriek now, and the sight of his hysteria caused Peter to whimper and James's blood to run cold.

"I assure you, Sirius, that your mother will not harm anyone. I will not allow it."

"You don't know her," Sirius said defiantly, "She'll stop at nothing to get what she wants, and what she'll want is Regulus and Remus…" He could not bring himself to continue.

"Trust me, Sirius. I am not easily intimidated by women like Walburga Black."

"Maybe you should be," Sirius muttered under his breath. Dumbledore acted as if he hasn't heard Sirius.

"As far as the three of you are concerned," McGonagall's stern voice continued, "you still must deal with the consequences of your recklessness. Walburga Black's rage notwithstanding, there is still the matter of Mr. Lupin's disappearance. Naturally, we will not rest until he is found. Unfortunately we do not have the resources to search indefinitely while still insuring the safety of all those involved."

"That is where the three of you come in." Dumbledore smiled half-heartedly at them as he spoke, his blue eyes watching them cautiously over the rims of his spectacles.

"Excuse me, Professor," James began, stuttering slightly out of anxiousness, "But are you honestly giving us permission to go looking for him?"

"Logically speaking, the three of you have already made sure that you would be perfectly safe in the presence of a werewolf. You seem to be the best candidates."

"But we're only seventeen! You can't actually trust us to wander all over Britain on our own!" Peter was stuttering as he speaks, and his voice was a frantic squeak.

"You would think," Sirius growled viciously, "That has a headmaster his duty would be to protect his students." His words were flat and mutinous, an act of revenge against Dumbledore's ultimate betrayal. In reality, Sirius wanted nothing more than the freedom to search for Remus on his own, but his resentment towards the headmaster prevented him from mentioning this.

"I am not expecting the three of you to go on your own, Mr. Pettigrew," Dumbledore paused and watched the three of them knowingly, and Sirius was annoyed that Dumbledore is continuing to ignore him. "You forget, of course, that we have a registered Animagus on staff."

In a moment of realization, the three of them glanced, in unison, to Professor McGonagall.


End file.
